What Matters
by Cobrilee
Summary: Derek Hale knows uncomfortable, and dinner with his boyfriend's father is hell. But for Stiles, he'll walk through hell and back with no regrets. Sequel to Love, Leather, and Family. Part 9 of A Very Sterek Christmas.


**A/N: So I meant for this to be funny, and it ended up being awkward and emotional. Derek just won't stop letting his inner mushball pour out onto my Word docs.**

Derek Hale was in hell. This had to be, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable he'd been in his entire life. And considering at the age of nine his mother had explained, matter-of-factly as always, that popping his claws unexpectedly was no longer going to be the only thing he had to worry about, he knew what uncomfortable was. This wasn't just uncomfortable. This was torture.

He plastered a stiff smile on his face as the Sheriff looked up from his plate and gruffly asked Derek to pass the potatoes. As soon as he had, the table fell back into silence. Even Stiles, the man who normally couldn't be forced into shutting up, had nothing to say.

It was hell. Almost literally. As bad as Derek was sweating right now, if hell was actually real, it couldn't be any worse than what he was going through.

"So."

Derek glanced at Stiles hopefully as he began speaking, wondering if he was going to break the awkward tension, but Stiles fell silent and shrugged, mouthing the words, 'I got nothin'.' Derek winced, surreptitiously checking his watch to see how long it had been since dinner began.

Ten minutes. Ten miserable, endless, _painful_ minutes.

He was in hell.

"Thank you again for the jacket," he blurted out suddenly, and felt like dying because he'd already thanked the sheriff twice. He caught Stiles' eye and sent him a desperate stare, which dissolved into a scowl when he realized Stiles was biting his fist to keep from laughing.

"You're welcome," John muttered, and Stiles finally let go.

"Oh, come _on_!" he snickered, glancing back and forth between his dad and Derek. "This is ridiculous, you two. I know neither of you are the chattiest people on the planet, but give me a break here!"

Derek smirked at him. "Not all of us have mouths that never quit." Then he paled, realizing how horribly that could be taken, and glanced furtively at the sheriff. There was a plastic smile on his face, as if he knew what Derek was thinking and was trying desperately to think of something, _anything_ , else.

"What can I say, my batteries never die," Stiles retorted with a grin. He looked over at his father. "I thought you were going to try to be nice, like Melissa said. Talk to Derek. Get to know him."

John stared at him with a furrowed brow, and Derek glanced back and forth between them in puzzlement when he realized Stiles was swallowing hard and his face had regret written all over it.

"How do you know what Melissa said to me?"

"Uh, I'm just that good?" Stiles offered weakly, and Derek closed his eyes. _Shit._ Stiles' nosiness was, once again, going to get him in trouble.

The sheriff put his fork down and glowered at Stiles. "If you overheard that conversation then you knew how hard a time I was having trying to come up with a good idea for a present, and you still let me wander around that mall for over an hour? I oughtta take away every present you got today just for that!"

Derek looked at John in surprise. "You really thought that hard about what to get me?" he asked, baffled. He'd imagined Stiles' father grabbing something off a rack and throwing it in a box. The thought that the sheriff had cared enough to actually put thought into it caused something warm to flare in his chest.

"Actually, he didn't," Stiles cut in with a snicker. "You should see the reindeer sweater I saved you from."

John cast another frown at Stiles. "Keep talking, buddy. That Black Ops game can go back to the store."

Stiles affected a horrified face and Derek couldn't help but smile at his boyfriend's over-the-top behavior.

Boyfriend. The word still _seriously_ weirded him out. He had no idea how the little flickers of appreciation he'd felt for the younger man had grown into affection, then into real feelings, then into real feelings that he couldn't keep from voicing. It had been an offhand "what I'm thankful for" declaration at Thanksgiving that had spiraled into a confession to Stiles after the rest of the pack had left, and to this day he wasn't entirely sure how Stiles had managed to weasel it out of him. The only real answer was that it was Stiles. He was magic. At least, Derek was fairly certain he was. There had to be some explanation for how he managed to hang with the wolf pack and hadn't gotten his dumb ass killed yet.

Being in love with Stiles, though, unfortunately meant he had to step out of his comfort zone in more ways than one. Not only had he opened himself up to the serious pain of being hurt by someone who actually mattered to him, who was more than just a pretty face he fell into bed with, but he'd opened himself up to the relationships that came along with making someone a permanent part of his life. He wasn't just Scott's mentor anymore, he hung out with the kid while they all played video games together. He didn't just sit across from Lydia in pack meetings, he let her come over so she and Stiles could study together.

The sheriff… Well, he still avoided him at all costs, and only muttered a hasty "hello" and "goodbye" whenever he had to actually interact with the man. He knew, however, that avoidance was no longer something he could continue to rely on. John and Stiles were close, and as long as he wanted to be with Stiles, he was going to have to learn how to share breathing space with the man.

With that thought in mind, he mustered up a genuine smile for John. "Thank you for caring enough to make the effort," he said quietly, and the sheriff looked at him in surprise.

"Well… You're welcome," he replied uncomfortably, scratching at the back of his neck. Derek cast a fond look at Stiles, recognizing where his boyfriend had picked up the unconscious habit. "I guess I figured you're part of the family now, and since you matter to Stiles, well, that matters to me." His neck turned a shade of pink, but Derek elected not to mention it.

"You said the 'F' word," Stiles joked, and Derek made a face at him.

"I don't freak out when someone talks about family," he muttered, and Stiles poked him in the ribs playfully.

"You freak out whenever anybody acts like they might actually care about you," he countered. "Which is stupid, because we love you. You're just going to have to get used to it."

The sheriff looked up, alarmed. "I don't love you."

Stiles dropped his head to his chest in mortification, but Derek actually laughed because he appreciated the honesty. "It's okay, John," he assured the older man. "I don't expect… that, yet."

He scowled. "It's Sheriff Stilinski." When Derek blanched, realizing he'd goofed, John smiled awkwardly. "You're not near old enough to be calling me by my first name. The rest of the kids call me Sheriff. "

Derek recognized it for the peace offering it was and nodded, letting a smirk cross his face. "I don't actually consider myself one of the kids."

"Not a girl, not yet a woman," Stiles quipped, grinning.

Derek gave him his most, "did you _really_ just say that" face and rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you did _not_ just quote a Britney Spears song at me."

Stiles nearly fell out of his chair. "Did you really just _get_ a pop culture reference?" he gasped.

"I hate you."

John chuckled, and Derek cast him a bemused look. "Stiles needed someone like you," he commented off-handedly, and Derek's warm feeling from earlier burst into flame. He wasn't sure the sheriff realized what he'd said, or if he did, what it meant to him.

"I didn't know how much I needed someone like Stiles," Derek murmured, focusing on the man in question.

"And now that you do, you're never going to let me go, right?" Stiles replied cheekily.

"Something like that," Derek acknowledged, gazing warmly at him.

They all felt silent, only this time it was a comfortable one. John cleared his throat eventually. "Stiles and I usually do a movie together after dinner on Christmas. Would you like to stay and watch it with us?"

"You should!" Stiles agreed enthusiastically, smiling so wide that his face seemed to just light up. "We're watching _The Maze Runner_ this year, it's supposed to be pretty awesome. I mean, it's no _Star Wars_ , but then again, nothing is. Except _Star Wars_ , obviously. Anyway, it should be good." His face was uncertain now, as if he thought the last thing Derek would want to do would be to spend more time with his dad. "What do you think?"

Derek nodded, fighting the smile that wanted to break out across his face. "I think I can do that," he replied easily.

"Why don't you two go get the movie set up while I clean the kitchen?" John suggested, and Derek appreciated the older man's considerate gesture. He knew he was being given a chance to have a moment alone with Stiles, and a reprieve from the awkwardness.

When they were alone in the living room and the DVD had been prepped, just waiting on John to rejoin them, Stiles leaned into his chest as they sat on the couch together. "That could have gone worse."

"It could have," Derek agreed wryly. "I could have thanked him for the jacket a fourth time."

Stiles snorted. "You did fine, Der. He'll get used to it eventually. In the meantime, he just wants me to be happy, and he knows you're a part of that."

Derek's arm tightened around Stiles' shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the top of his head, knowing that Stiles had no idea just how much the reverse was true, as well. He hadn't known how to be happy for so long that he kind of thought he never would be again. Stiles had changed that, and if it meant he had to suffer through a thousand painful dinners to keep him, he'd do it without a second thought.

"Are you boys ready?" John asked as he came out of the kitchen and into the living room. He caught Derek's eye over the top of Stiles' head and the two men shared a tentative smile. It was enough for Derek, for now. Eventually they'd look back on this and laugh, and in the meantime, well… In the meantime they'd both try their damnedest, for Stiles' sake.

Before Stiles could reply, Derek spoke up. "I forgot to give you your present." He hadn't entirely been sure about showing up with a gift, even though the sheriff had given him one, but he had it in reserve, just in case.

"You didn't have to," John started, clearly ill at ease, but Derek was already sliding out from underneath Stiles' upper body and heading upstairs to grab the package he'd left in Stiles' room. He turned it over in his hands, still anxious despite it being a rather benign gift.

He took his time going back downstairs, feeling dread snake through his chest as he handed over the small present. John took his time unwrapping it, which had Stiles bouncing, which eased Derek's anxiety. He couldn't help but smile at Stiles' never-ending impatience. When the paper had finally fallen away, John stared at the gift.

"Stiles told me baseball used to be you guys' thing," Derek explained, uncertain if the reaction was a positive or negative one. "You used to go out and play on the weekends and watch the Mets games. I thought…" He trailed off. He wasn't really sure _what_ he'd thought, just that he liked books and it was a book about the Mets, which was a special thing for Stiles and his dad, and maybe it would bring to mind good times even if he never read it.

Stiles grabbed the book from his dad's hands. "'Can't Anybody Here Play This Game: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets' First Year'," he read out loud, grinning widely. "This is awesome, Der! Thanks!"

The sheriff scoffed. "I'm pretty sure that was _my_ present," he retorted, snagging the book back from Stiles. He looked over at Derek. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "This was thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome," Derek replied quickly, sinking back onto the seat beside Stiles and sliding his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "Okay, I think we're ready for the movie now."

"Starting!" Stiles announced, picking up the remote and hitting the pause button. As the opening scene burst onto the screen, Derek settled back into the couch and rubbed his thumb over Stiles' upper arm in lazy circles, and let himself take a deep breath of contentment. This was exactly where he wanted to be.


End file.
